Damon Salvatore Christmas: Then and Now
by Jessjunky
Summary: A look at how Damon Salvatore's Christmas has changed.


"Oh, come on, you Scrooge!"

"Bah, humbug."

"Damon!" Elena whined, straightening the red and white trim stockings that hung over the fireplace, "You're making a big deal out of nothing!"

"Though," Damon continued like she hadn't interrupted him, "I'm much more like the Grinch than Scrooge." He then paused with a newfound smirk on his face. He knew that the only thing that could possibly win out over his girl's stubbornness was her natural curiosity.

The two stared at each other with narrowed eyes, each silently challenging the other to give in. Finally, Elena proved Damon's prediction correct as she huffed and threw her hands up in reluctant defeat. "How so?"

"Well," Damon drawled, sauntering towards her and putting his hands on her waist. "He _did_ get the girl in the end right? He stole her from that really annoying mayor."

She nodded in understanding before slowly moving her hands up her boyfriend's arms until they met around his neck. "Well, then you're a mean one, Mr. Salvatore," she said, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.

Damon nodded with fake solemnity. "The meanest."

"Positively evil." Elena purred before grabbing his head and yanking it down to hers for a deep kiss.

Chuckling, Damon slowly pulled away from her assault on his body, leaving staccato kisses in his wake as he took a step back. "You won't be able to manipulate me into this, 'Lena." He murmured. "I'm standing my ground on this one. I'll get you a present for you to open on Christmas Day, and that's it." He said, illustrating his point with a swipe of his hand through the air.

"There must be _something_ you at least _appreciate_ about Christmas!" Elena whispered, searching his eyes for the hidden truth she wished to find. "_Anything _that you secretly enjoy the meaning of?"

Damon pursed his lips and pretended to be in thought for a few moments before nodding thoughtfully. "Santa Claus has the right idea. I mean, hey, I would want to know where all the bad girls live too," he said, shrugging and waggling his eyebrows in innuendo.

Elena smiled sadly and whispered conspiringly, "Don't tell Jer, but I'm pretty sure Santa Claus isn't real, Damon."

"Well, there you go! The last reason why I enjoyed Christmas never even existed in the first place!" He sighed in disappointment. "I'm going to have to go to the Grill now and drown in my sorrows over this incredibly depressing news." He walked backwards a few steps as he said these words, and then turned away from her towards the front door, preparing to do exactly as he said. However, before he could even grab his jacket from the coat rack, his girlfriend's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Do you remember our Christmas together last year?"

Damon turned around in confusion. "When you were sired to me?"

Elena nodded. "Yep. And do you remember when you said that you missed celebrating Christmas? What happened to that?"

Damon gritted his teeth in annoyance. "Missing something and doing something are two very different things."

"And what, pray tell, is the difference? Things are definitely a whole lot better now than they were then!" Elena shouted, getting tired of going around in circles. Why was it that Damon could never give her a straight answer?

"The difference is that I don't remember how to celebrate Christmas anymore!" Damon growled in response, blurting out the truth before he could think the words through.

The parlor was deathly silent as the pair was left speechless. Neither knew what to say now that the truth had been involuntarily thrust out into the open. Finally, Elena decided that someone had to say something, and she had a feeling it was not going to be the man who looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

"What?" She said softly, slowly walking towards her boyfriend as if he were an animal she was trying not to spook away.

Damon sighed. "Fine! Yes! I haven't celebrated Christmas since my mother died. You happy now? Have we fulfilled our care and share quota for the day?" He scowled, looking down at the floor. Why couldn't he just fall through it? Maybe, if he was really lucky, one of the pieces of wood would get lodged into his heart on the way down. The last thing he wanted or needed to see was the goddamn pity bleed into the doe eyes he loved. He was snapped out of these stupidly self-pitying and suicidal thoughts by a soft and familiar hand on his cheek. He reflexively leaned into it before stiffening up once again when Elena spoke.

"I don't pity you, Damon, so stop thinking that I do." She waited for his eyes to meet hers before continuing. "I'm just sad and angry for you. You didn't deserve what you got after your mother died. What your father did to you. What Katherine did to you. Hell, what Stefan did to you, even if he never meant to hurt you. Do you understand me?"

Damon nodded, swallowing harshly. God, he loved this girl. More than anyone or anything else, he loved this girl, and what he was about to do was the biggest way he could show that. "Do you- do you want to hear about her? My mother… and the last Christmas we all spent together?" He waited anxiously for her reply, not knowing which response he was hoping for.

He didn't have to wait long for one, anyway. Elena may have had tears in her eyes, but she was positively beaming. She knew how significant this was to him. "I'd love to, Damon," she admitted, wiping at a tear that had escaped. "But only if you want to tell me."

Nodding and taking a steadying breath, Damon led her over to the couch. "Keep in mind that my childhood was completely different from yours…"

_Mystic Falls, Virginia- 1850_

'_Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a Salvatore boy. A ten- year- old Damon and a three-year-old Stefan were still, huddled together in the elder brother's bed for warmth, whispering to each other under the blankets what they hoped and planned to be receiving the next morning. Oh, you thought, "not stirring" meant that they were asleep? When Christmas was calling to them? You obviously hadn't been there when Mrs. Salvatore had first told her sons about St. Nicholas a few weeks before._

"_St. Nicholas is a kind, chubby-" She had broken off to tickle Stefan's tummy with a grin, making the toddler squirm and giggle, "-and jolly man, who goes around the world the night before Christmas, so that good little boys will have presents to open the next morning!"_

"_We've been good, mama! We promise! Right, Damon?" Stefan had asked, looking up to his big brother for confirmation._

"_Well…" Damon had grimaced, thrown back to the month before when they had both been caught playing in the mud right before a party that was being held at the estate. "Stef, there was that time that last month when we…"_

"_Hush, Damon." Mrs. Salvatore had interrupted him gently. "I have the two best boys, and I am absolutely certain that St. Nicholas will agree."_

_Damon had looked down in guilt as he repeatedly lived through the memory. "But Father…"_

"_Your father lost his temper unnecessarily. You are both still children, at least in my eyes, and you deserve to have some fun with your brother when you take care of him the way you do." Mrs. Salvatore placed her index finger under her son's chin and raised it, stroking his cheek lovingly with her thumb. "Never let anyone tell you that having fun is wrong, Damon, unless you're hurting someone- especially someone you love- in the process. That is the only time when enjoying yourself can be associated with being bad. Do you understand me?"_

_Damon had nodded; smiling at his mother adoringly as his brain took in the advice she had just given him as a law to live by._

_It was now 5:30 on Christmas morning, and Damon and Stefan were pushing each other to go faster as they scampered down the stairs as fast as their weak, human legs would carry them. Unfortunately, their excitement and chatter was a little too loud for so early in the morning, no matter how important said morning was to them._

"_Boys!" Their father reprimanded boomingly from his place at the breakfast table. "Show some decorum!"_

"_Apologies, father." Stefan said with pride and acceptance of the expectations put on him. His older brother, meanwhile, mumbled the same words seconds after him, but not quite with the same emotions._

"_Come now, Giuseppe." Their mother's lilted voice rang through the dining room, and both boys visibly perked up. "They're just excited for their presents, aren't you, boys?" She asked, kneeling down to their level. "You want to know what St. Nicholas brought you? I think I saw a few nice things in the parlor!" She widened her eyes in awe._

_As wide grins spread across the boys' faces, they both looked at each other before once again running through the halls of the house, the matriarch following quickly yet gracefully behind them._

_Mrs. Salvatore bent down to pick up the gifts wrapped in newspaper that were left on the fireplace. The boys had known how impolite it would have been to have just ripped into them without her permission. "This is for you," she said, giving one to Stefan and kissing his forehead. "And this one," she smiled, "is for you, Damon."_

_The boy spoken to looked down at the object that had just been put into his hands. It was rectangular in shape and very thin. Curious, Damon carefully took off the newspaper and revealed what was inside. Confused, he looked up to his mother for clarification._

"_Every man should have a handkerchief, dear, if only for decoration. It shows manners and responsibility. Plus," She added with a wink, "You can use it to wipe things you would rather not clean with your bare hands. Like... I don't know… mud!" She exclaimed, poking his stomach accusingly._

_Damon smirked mischievously. He wouldn't admit it aloud yet, but he was secretly pretty proud of that stunt. "A wonderful idea, mother. Thank you." Damon had just enough time to wrap his arms around his mother's neck before the younger Salvatore brother ran over._

"_Brother! Brother, look! Mama got me a wooden bunny rabbit!" Stefan grinned toothily._

_Mrs. Salvatore laughed. "That's because I know that's your favorite animal, my little farm boy!" With that, she grabbed him under the arms and threw him onto the couch next to Damon, making them both shriek at the impact. Before they could get up, she began tickling them ferociously, making them squirm and giggle._

_Little did ten-year-old, human Damon know that this would be the last time he would be truly joyful and carefree for about another one hundred and sixty years._

**Present day**

"A bunny? Are you serious?"

"Dead. As in the condition that Stefan now leaves bunnies of the non-wooden variety in. I don't even want to know what he did with that thing." At this point, Damon had stopped showing any of the emotion he felt from telling the story, and was instead staring into the blazing fire. "She died of consumption just a couple weeks later. I still have the handkerchief upstairs, tucked into that trunk you saw me with when your humanity was turned off. I haven't used it since I was human. It just didn't feel right."

Elena sighed. She had known, trusted, and eventually loved this man for the past two years, and yet she was only recently beginning to understand the weight he carried with him every day. "She'd be proud of you, you know."

He scoffed. "Yeah, I'm sure she'd be real proud of her son who turned into a monster. I'm sure I achieved all her dreams for me." Rolling his eyes, he moved to get up from the couch.

She shook her head and grabbed his arm. She'd seen his protestation coming the moment she'd opened her mouth to say the words. "She'd be proud of the man who died for the woman he loved, by the hands of his own father. She'd be proud of the man who spent over a hundred years trying to get said woman out of a tomb she was never in. She'd be proud of the man who, despite his brother's betrayal, offered him forgiveness numerous times only to get it thrown back in his face. She'd be proud of the man who has grown, so much, so that he could be deserving of the woman he loves now, who loves him just the same." She rose from the couch to bring him to him to her eye level. "She'd be proud of the man who now has a family, no matter how dysfunctional it is."

Damon's eyes glistened with an unnamed emotion, and he nodded before wrapping his arms around her waist in a hug. They stayed in that position for a few moments, before Elena gently broke away.

"You know…." She said, walking backwards to the table. "She'd also be pretty proud of the man who can finally be free to kiss the woman he loves, sans sire bond, without any guilt." With that, she walked back over to him and held the mistletoe over his head. "What do you say, Mr. Salvatore? Think you can?" She challenged.

Damon grabbed her by the hips and pulled her to him at vamp speed, making her shriek. "Oh, I definitely can…" he growled, pulling her to his lips.

Neither was able to know that Mama Salvatore was looking over the scene from above with a tearful smile, content to know that her eldest son could finally be happy.

It was a Merry Christmas for one and all, indeed.


End file.
